Adventures are not exclusively to the adventurous. The A.R. was not regarded as venturesome by his two aunts, and himself considered adventures as generally disagreeable things, involving discomfort invariably and a modicum of danger frequently. Now Milward, like the other men of his grade, tried to do his tried to do his work, to avoid censure, and hoped some day for promotion. He had no time and less inclination for adventures. Hence when, late one Sunday afternoon, he got word of an escaped prisoner in a town & dozen miles away, he mounted a horse and set out to catch the man. In his part of the world one does not take a horse out of a walk after dark; and so, wishing to cover the distance as quickly as possible, he pushed on at a gallop, leaving the two constables to follow. Dusk found him alone, rather more than half way, cantering along a sixfoot-wide path of sand, bordered on both sides by longish grass. The pony was going well, the evening was cool, and the A.R. was enjoying his ride. Coming round a bend in the road, he found himself within a dozen yards of a leopard, who rose from a prone position, retreated a few yards along the

path, and then halted, facing him. Milward pulled up, and sat watching the beast. Thus for some moments, man and leopard, motionless. Acutely conscious of the facts that his only weapon was a light ridingwhip and that his people with the carbines were at least an hour behind, the A.R. tried to look as bright and friendly as possible. The leopard began to wave his tail, very slowly, very gently, with a sweeping, scythe-like action. The movement seemed to start at the very end of the tail, and gradually worked upwards till the whole of the member was involved. Such action on the part of a dog is usually significant of friendship; chez members of the genus Felidæ it is commonly regarded as indicating a distinctly hostile interest. Then he loosened his lower jaw without opening his mouth, and lowered his head till it was close to the ground. Then, very slowly, he began to move towards Milward. The distance separating them was only thirty yards-less, perhaps, and the beast was coming straight down the path. The light was failing fast, the bush all round was utterly still and silent, and down the path, sinister, deliberate, and infinitely threatening, came the leopard. Neither hesitation nor hurry, Arrived within a dozen yards, he turned from the path and continued his advance under cover. The A.R. watched the grass sway to his every movement. Obviously it was time for the man to act, and he

proceeded up a straight slender tree that was close at hand. Up to the very top he went, riding boots and spurs and riding-whip and all, and from his swaying perch regarded below. Natives say that whilst the leopard can climb any tree, he avoids those with straight slender trunks, preferring a stout tree with plenty of branches. On this bit of forest lore Milward was acting. He watched the leopard, plainly visible now, just below. The animal paused in his advance, apparently at a loss for the first time in the encounter. He looked at the man; he looked at the horse, which all the time had not been aware of his presence, and now, feeling the reins loose upon his neck, turned and started back towards the camp. The leopard came from the grass out on to the road, had another look at the man, and then, with evident reluctance, set off to stalk the horse moving away down the

road.

Later on, when Milward's people arrived and drove off the wife of the leopard, she was waiting about in the neighbourhood of the tree, it appeared, the A.R. descended and continued his journey on foot to catch the escaped prisoner. His luck was out that Sunday, for he missed his man by the half of an hour, and had to walk the dozen miles back to camp. Locally it is said that a leopard never touches a horse, though of course a lion will, and that he will never face two men. He appears to be in the habit of lying in wait close to a road, on the chance of snapping up a solitary traveller. Milward's rencontre took place in the last month of the year, when the leopard usually finds himself with a wife and a young family to provide for, and is more urgent in seeking food than when he has only himself to cater for.

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THE Session of Parliament, which drags wearily on to its uncertain goal of revolution, will be remembered by all patriots with feelings of shame and humiliation. Never before has the game of politics been played with so ignoble a contempt of its rules. Never have the men intrusted with the government of the Empire so openly contemned their duty and their dignity. The weeks which have elapsed since the General Election have been spent by Mr Asquith and his colleagues in intrigue and surrender. Masters neither of themselves nor of their followers, they have been compelled to purchase support by means hitherto unknown in our Parliamentary practice. They have been so pitifully engrossed in the management of the machine that they have had no leisure for honest thought, for clear exposition, or for the simple tasks of administration. They have wriggled at question time like a fish on the hook; and Mr Asquith has deemed it not incompatible with the gravity of his office to elude the curiosity of his opponents with the absurd formula, "Wait and see."

He should know that

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the habit of "selling bargains is out of fashion, and that the House of Commons is not to be beguiled with gags, like the pit at a Christmas pantomime.

Mr Asquith's attitude, incapable of defence as it is, is not unintelligible. He returned to the House of Commons buoyed up by boastfulness. Throughout the course of the election he was daily encouraged by his colleagues, who saw a patent triumph in what wiser men would have recognised as a defeat. He refused to put off the arrogant temper induced by a majority of three hundred, and fondly believed himself the leader of an army unimpaired. The illusion was

short-lived. A single speech from Mr Redmond dispelled it. That astute politician lost no time in convincing the Radicals that they were under his heel. If they did not wish to be crushed, said he in effect, they must do as they were bid. And

ever since since they have proved an obedience to their master which would be touching were it not contemptible. At the mere word of Mr Redmond they have pledged themselves to a revolution more violent than that of 1688, and

if they are not hindered in the performance of the imposed task, they will sell the constitution and the Empire to obtain the temporary support of seventy Irish votes.

Never in our history was a more infamous bargain struck. To flatter the vanity of Mr Lloyd - George "the People's Budget" must be passed through the House of Commons, and it was so bitterly disapproved by "the People that intrigue alone could save it from extinction. Here, then, was Mr Redmond's chance. He, too, had no love of the Budget, but he saw a clear possibility of Home Rule if once the House of Lords was deprived of its so-called Veto. It was not enough for him that the Resolutions abolishing the Veto of the Lords should be approved by the Commons. He insisted that, were they rejected by the Lords, as assuredly they will be rejected, Mr Asquith should demand of the King the instant creation of 500 accommodating Peers, appointed for the express purpose of destroying those that already exist and of committing themselves political suicide. Mr Redmond's terms, harsh as they may seem to those who retain some reverence for the constitution, were eagerly accepted. And Asquith stands in the pillory as a Minister who has bartered the dignity of his office for votes, and who dared to offer the throne at auction for what it would fetch.

Mr

This is, perhaps, his greatest enormity. By a very proper understanding the name of the

King has hitherto been excluded from the debates of Parliament. It has been justly esteemed an act of cowardice to involve in an open discussion one who by the very terms of his office is unable to accept or contradict the statements

of politicians. But, at at Mr Redmond's command, Mr Asquith has hastened to outrage the solemn traditions of his high office. He has loudly proclaimed what he will do to enforce Mr Redmond's will, and if it be not enforced, then the responsibility will be not his but the Crown's. He cares not that he creates a precedent which, if it be not instantly forgotten, will make the limited Monarchy, which has conferred so many blessings upon Great Britain, a manifest impossibility. He is driven headlong down the path of ruin, and his pompous henchmen, who have long boasted of their moderation, and are now revealed for the charlatans that they are, shuffle after him with what poor speed and energy they can muster.

Thus it is that Mr Asquith is attempting to make a revolution for which there is neither warrant nor excuse. The enormity of his offence must be plain to all patriotic Englishmen. Revolutions are always evil in themselves, nor can any palliation be found for them, save that sometimes they are irresistible. There have been uprisings of reckless adventurers which patriotism was powerless to suppress, and which have done as much harm to the states overwhelmed by them as an eruption of Etna inflicts